Dream in Despair
by Lillipad Harlee
Summary: It had been centuries since Dream had lost everything; his subjects, his brother, his home. Centuries of pretending that everything is alright when people look then breaking when they're not there. Centuries of suffering alone and helping everyone else while knowing that there was no one to help him. Then one day, someone does, someone surprising.
1. Chapter 1

Dream hugs his knees close, hiding his face behind them as sadness and despair roll in his chest. The sound of his people, those he should have protected, echo in his mind, mocking him for his failures. They plead for help, scream curses, die with painful sounds escaping them.

His hands find his ear canals, pressing on them hard, harder, and harder yet till he feels a slight pain in his skull, but he doesn't let up. His head clears slightly, enough for him to realise that he's crying before he's pulled back under the current. A laughter follows him down. He recognizes it as one that makes up his nightmares. He hates that laugh even though he could never hate the person behind it.

His people are fearful of that laugh. His people want the person behind that laugh gone. His people demand that he get rid of it, of them, of him…

His people…

...his people that...that…

...that died.

Gone, all gone. Because of him. He couldn't do it. He couldn't save them...he couldn't save him…

He couldn't do anything.

He wasn't needed.

He's not useful.

Can't even hold onto hope. Can't bring hope to them. Can't ever being hope to him again.

All he has ever caused was pain. Pain to them. Pain to him. Pain to himself.

Everyone hates pain. That's why there are pain killers. Hehe. Maybe… maybe he should become a pain killer and just-

"Hello?" A voice says. Not one of them. Not him. Just a voice. What's it doing here?

"A_r_e you _o__**k**__a_**y?**"

It sounds familiar too. Sounds concerned. Powerful. Uncertain.

Should Dream look? What if it wasn't real? What if he failed them too? Brought them pain?

He shouldn't look.

He does anyway.

He finds Error standing before him, shockingly enough. Almost shocking enough to drown out the voices and sorrow, but he finds himself drifting further in. Error had destroyed his universe, leaving only his brother and him. Not that Nightmare had left much for Error to get rid of. Error also didn't have any hope that Dream could feel; maybe that was Dreams fault too?

"What do you want?" Dream croaks out, looking away. He misses the expression of concern the older and far more dangerous skeleton wears.

"**YOu'r**_**e**_ **c**_**Ry**_**inG**_**.**_" Error mutters, at a lost of what to do or say.

Dream laughs bitterly. Yeah, he was, and he couldn't stop. They won't shut up. He won't stop laughing. There was nothing to see but blood. It was just him on a bloody battlefield, only him alive and his reaper has come.

...but he's still alive.

Dream grows angry at this fact. Why hasn't Error killed him yet? Why hasn't he finished the job?

"What are you doing here?!" He snaps out, glaring up at Error through his pouring tears, "Either kill me o-or leave."

Error doesn't move. Dream doesn't stop crying. He also doesn't stop glaring at Error, daring the other to actually do it. Finish the job like he should have all those decades ago. It would have been better for everyone.

Dream looks away first. The blood is gone, replaced by snow, the bodies having turned into trees and bushes. It was just him and Error.

"Why didn't you kill me all those years ago?" Dream whispers out.

No answer.

A fwump sounds out as the air is displaced beside Dream. He looks over to see Error sitting next to him, looking at him in concentration. Slowly, hesitantly, the glitches arms rise.

"_**D**_**o...do You wa**_**n**_**T **_**a**_ **hug?"**

Dream stares at Error in disbelief. As far as anyone knew, the destroyer was adverse to touch unless fighting, only accepting any form of touch from the original swap sans, Blueberry, and that was with reluctance. But… the way Error seems rigid, unsure of himself, looking around as though Dream has a trap for him, looking just slightly scared, like Dream was the bad guy here… it had Dream closing his eyes and just, falling into the skeletons embrace. If Error killed him, then so be it.

He fell asleep soon, anyways.

…

Waking up, Dream finds himself in a warm, slightly damp cave, snow just outside his reach. Draped over him lies a light yellow blanket with tiny white hearts darted about. He looks around, seeing neither blood nor a grayscale world.


	2. Chapter 2

Dream stares up at the planets and stars surrounding him. They twirl beautifully before him on his perch in an outertale universe. He came here to calm down, the stars always bringing a smile to his face and light in his eyes. This time, they only kept him from going completely grey.

He had been trying to find Error because he couldn't get their interaction out of his mind. He wanted, no, needed to know if he was going crazy or if maybe, just maybe, Error wasn't as hopeless as everyone thought.

However, no matter how hard Dream tries, how fast he was, Error was always out of reach. He was just beyond Dreams grasp. It made him mad, the amount of erased universes, hopeless and fallen monsters he had to shudder through, and for nothing. He had even tried asking his brother but had only gotten broken ribs for his troubles. It was almost as if Error was avoiding him, which made Dream feel bad. Was he being too pushy? Maybe that day had been a fluke. Maybe, just maybe, Error was as gone as everyone thought. Maybe Dream really was just as useless as he thinks.

"**LOok**_**i**_**ng a l**_**I**_**ttle **_**grey**_ **there, d**_**r**_**Eam."** A voice calls out.

Dream doesn't even perk up all that much. What was the point? Error found him once again from just two minutes of sitting still when he didn't even have the time to try and help the falling monsters he walked past on his quest to find Error. How could he have been so selfish?

He looks to the side and there was Error sitting down and stargazing like nothing was wrong. Like Dream wasn't the worst. Like the embodiment of hope wasn't…

They sit in silence for a long time.

"I saw a monster fall down today, and there was nothing I could do." Lies, there was something he could have done, he just didn't try and left. He hadn't felt up to it, Error had still been out of his grasp.

"**It ha**_**p**_**peNs."** Is the calm response he gets. It's not the one he wants. "**E**_**v**_**en thOugh we a**_**l**_**l wis**_**h**_**ed it diDn't."**

"Right, and I'm supposed to believe a murderer doesn't wish for monsters to fall." Dream scoffs out. The calm way Error talked about such a horrible way to die pissed him off. Dream could feel all the death weighing on his back, his sins crawling up and down his spines as new voices are added to those he's failed. "You destroy universes daily, and for what reason? Because they- it's fun? B-because… because why?" Why kill all those people, but not Dream?

For several minutes Dream waits for an answer, for anything. No answer is given, and Dream looks away, sagging. He hadn't really been expecting one, but he had been hoping for one.

"**LoOk."** Error says after what feels like years of silence, pointing at a planet.

Dream looks. He waits and watches, and before his gaze a planet explodes slowly, almost dramatically. It was gorgeous in all its colorful destruction, reds and yellows and oranges surrounded by the blackness of space. He didn't want to look away.

"**Do y**_**o**_**u knOw wh**_**at**_ **that wa**_**s**_**?"**

"Um." Dream mutters, looking at Error in confusion, "A dying planet…" he says slowly, unsure what Error was saying.

"**Yes, **_**b**_**ut also NatuRe."** Error looks from the explosion to Dream. Pools of reds and yellows and whites pull him in, drowning him as they are enclosed by darkness. "**Do you **_**u**_**ndErstand?"**

Dream looks away.

"Are you saying that you're nature?" Dream asks with disbelief. How delusional was this glitch?

"**No. I'm **_**s**_**aying **_**t**_**hat LiFe c**_**a**_**nnot exist **_**w**_**ithOut dea**_**t**_**h; lIght withou**_**t**_ **d**_**a**_**Rk; yAng without **_**y**_**in. It**'**s how The m**_**u**_**ltiverse w**_**or**_**ks. That's wh**_**a**_**t I've le**_**a**_**rned, iF a bit **_**t**_**oo late. I adm**_**i**_**t that sOme univ**_**e**_**rses were desTroyed that dIdn't need to **_**b**_**e."**

Dream tugs on his gauntlets, though not as bright as they usually are, they were brighter than they had been before Error found him. How is Error able to distract him from his feelings of hopelessness so effectively?

"Was my universe one of the ones that didn't need to be destroyed?"

"**N**_**o**_**."**

Short and sweet, just a simple 'no'. His had to go. That's okay, he can accept that answer. It had to go. Nightmare hadn't left much behind.

Wind blows by their little spot, weaving through the grass and making the blades dance. Hours pass in silence. Error was the first to leave. Dream doesn't chase after him this time.


	3. Chapter 3

He doesn't know what universe he is in. He doesn't want to know. It doesn't matter. He just wants to stay.

The sun feels good on his bones. When was the last time he was under the true sun? With the sounds of leaves dancing in the winds and creaks bubbling out their stories? The bird chirps bringing that extra spice of life as other woodland creatures scurry about. When did he last relax in the grass blades surrounded by flowers? When had he last felt so calm?

He doesn't feel alone here. He doesn't feel anything but other being's hopes and wishes washing over him.

That bird hopes for a mate this year. Those pair of fawns each hope to be the winner of the little game their playing. That mother hopes for her child's survival. The trees hope to one day reach the stars. The very planet herself hopes, though her language is too old to translate past a glowing ball of bright emotions for each of her children.

He could feel himself being lost in the hope of this world. He could feel his chest rise and fall with the pulses Mother Earth sends out. His body feels boundless. And his **SOUL**… his **SOUL** is sucking up each positive emotion like a sponge.

This was the heaven humans always talk about. It feels too good for it to not be.

This is all Dream needs…

…

….

… there is someone here…

… they don't bring hope…

… they don't give him happiness…

… they're not here to live…

Dream opens his eyes. He doesn't see the trees that house the birds. He doesn't hear the streams that give life to all. He doesn't feel the playful wind that tugs everyone into games.

He does see the young human. They climb high above his head.

He does hear the chocked cries. They tie rope to the branches.

He does feel their **SOUL**. They have come to fall down.

He doesn't move, but they do.

He feels the horror coursing through his body as they just swing. There was no hope. There was no happiness. There was now nothing but emptiness making his **SOUL** ache.

…

…

…

He doesn't know what universe he just left. He doesn't want to know. It doesn't matter. He just wishes that they could have stayed.

He can't breath. He can't see past them. He can't hear anything but the sharp and terrifying crack of a snapping neck, of a shattering **SOUL**.

He can't believe that he left them there to rot.

He doesn't stay away for long. Dream soon finds himself in that universe once more. Staring at the body left behind, at another failure of his. His eyelights track their movements as they swing back and forth, back and forth in the billowing wind.

He climbs the tree, taking the route that they used, and with a sharp bone, he cuts them down. He flinches as their body lands with a thud on the ground far below. He now stands over them. He doesn't know how to go about anything else, he's never buried a human before, did they have any special way of going about it? He didn't want to look around and find out, so he figured that just burying them will have to be enough.

With some time and effort, Dream now stands on a grave, a makeshift cross (humans used those for their dead, right?) of magical bones that glows golden shows where the head lies. He doesn't move. He doesn't think. He doesn't hope.

He stands there for days, still as a statue. Looking. Listening. Crying.

He couldn't save them. He couldn't save his people. He couldn't save him. He couldn't save anyone. He was no bringer of hope. He was no dream.

A weight lands on his head and shoulders. So out of place that he opens his eyes (when had they closed?) and finally takes a breath (how long had he gone without?).

He was soaked. The rain pours down around him steadily. When had it started to rain? Error stands to his side, staring at the grave, unmindful of the rain and chill in the air. His jacket covers Dream.

They don't speak. They don't move.

Eventually the rain stops. Eventually one of them moves. Error looks at him. Studies him. Slowly turns him away from the grave. Looking in Errors eyes, Dream finally cries.

"I di-didn't sav-ve them." Dream sobs. "I coul-ld hav-ve, but I-I didn-n't."

**"O_k_ay."**

No judgement. No 'you should have done better'. No pressure. Error didn't care about that.

Dream didn't do good, but to Error, Dream didn't do bad either.

He hugs Errors jacket to his face, hiding under the hood's black fabric as he continues crying. No one moves. No one says anything. Soon, Dream stops crying. He hands Error back his jacket and smiles. He's not okay, not by a long shot, but he's no longer monochrome grey.

He leaves first, and as the portal closes behind him, a surge of destructive force wells up in that universe. Dream doesn't look back.


	4. Chapter 4

Dream stares at the drink in his hand. Ink had dragged him to a party and left him there a few hours ago. He doesn't even know why he's still here. The music is loud and pounding at his mind. The people weren't much quieter, shouting and stomping and slamming into the walls, drunk and high as they make out with strangers and friends and significant others. He doesn't even know why he allowed Ink to drag him here. The flashing lights and fog covered floor just isn't something he is interested in.

He can feel people's eyes on him, his clothing choice is bright and doesn't fit in at all. The blanket Error had left him now replaces his old one, bringing him a sense of calm that the other had been failing to do.

He takes the last sip of his first drink, setting it down and simply watching the ice clink about, his face propped up on his fist. He doesn't want to look at the humans and monsters surrounding him, having fun that he feels is just out of his reach. When was the last time he had truly laughed? When was the last time he had been able to have fun?

He doesn't remember. It was most likely when Nightmare was still… okay. When they both wore crowns that mattered. Now Dream wears a golden band around his head for nothing. He is no prince. Nightmare on the other hand… well Nightmare had become a king.

Someone sets a glass next to his empty one. He really doesn't want to look up but it would be rude not to, so he does. A human smiles down at him. Her teeth seem to glow white in the lighting and her blonde hair creates a halo around her head, streaks of green amongst the blonde bringing out her own green eyes that dance above the freckles on her cheeks.

Dream can honestly say that he's surprised. Even though he is in a universe where monsters and humans lived together peacefully, no universe was ever without animosity. Besides, he's been here for at least three hours and not even the monsters tried talking to him.

"I saw you were looking a little blue," she says, obviously lying since he can't turn blue "so, I thought you might need some company. May I?"

Dream looks at the seat she points to, right next to him. He doesn't really want company, especially a stranger's, but it might be good for him to talk to people. That is one of the most likely reasons Ink dragged him here. The other is that he's in the mood to be a little shit and just wanted to watch him suffer before growing bored and leaving, forgetting that Dream was even here in the first place. Yeah, the last one is more likely. Still, not only is he here, he stayed, might as well get some use out of it, and if that means making a new friend, then all the better.

He grabs the drink and slides it closer, not yet drinking from it as he gestures to the chair opposite him. She takes the one next to him, setting her own drink on the table. She leans closer, her short dress not hiding much, and Dream leans back into his chair. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea…

"My names Jessye. What's yours?"

Dream looks at her as he introduces himself, just now noticing that there wasn't something right with her gaze. It rubs him the wrong way with how she looks at him, like he's a prize. "Nice to meet you Jessye. I am Dream."

"You sure are a dream." another voice, his in just a slightly deeper tone. He looks to his side and sees Cross, a calm look on his face that for once, isn't obstructed by his scarf. He stands with his thumbs hooked on a steel studded belt, arms bare and ribs showing through his black wife beater.

Scratch the earlier shock out because it's got nothing on what's happening now. When the hell did any of Nightmare's boys get here without Dream noticing? He quickly scans the room, spotting Dust and maybe Killer now that he's looking at something other than his drink. No wonder his nonexistent skin had been crawling, these guys were probably watching him to see what the hell he was doing here. This was just there type of place they would choose to lay low, people don't look closely at others here, no one would even remember them come morning.

"And you are?" Jessye demands, knocking Dream from his shocked staring. She was outright glaring at Cross, straightening up and silently challenging him.

Dream decides that he no longer wants to a part of this and simply starts sipping his new drink, looking between the two people he's found himself stuck between. He can't teleport without his staff, can't do much of any magic without it, and Ink had taken it with him when he left. That asshole had stranded him in an unknown universe, and now the dark Sans's have surrounded him.

"I'm Cross, a friend whose come to pick him up. You should leave."

Dream frowns at Cross. When had they ever been friends? Could they be considered friends with how things are right now? He doesn't know and his mouth is starting to go dry, he takes another drink and looks at Jessye. How's she going to respond?

"Really?" she asks with fake surprise. "I don't think he considers you a friend. Not with the way he looked at you when you said that, so maybe you should leave us be and go back to wherever it is that you crawled from because we are now bffsies and he doesn't need you."

Wow.

He takes another drink, his mouth has become really parched and his cup was almost empty.

That was quite the speech, and she is quite the bitch. Dream doesn't think he wants her as a friend. He tries to say that, but ends up putting the glass down and sliding into his seat slightly. His head is swimming. He knew he had low alcohol tolerance when he wasn't feeling good, but he didn't know that it was this bad, he usually doesn't drink all that much so the sudden hit really got to him.

He looks up as Jessye storms off, having been too lost in his own swirling mind to pay attention to the conversation that those two were having over his fate. Looks like Cross won. He tries looking at the Sans that now controls what happens to him, but his vision swims so badly that everything turns black. The last thing he's aware of is someone picking him up.

…

Dream wakes up in a bed, his senses slowly start to work. He smells spices hanging in the air first. His hearing just barely picks up the light hum of electricity surrounding him. A soft comforter covers him, keeping him warm and calm. As he breathes, he can taste fresh air, locating him on the surface. He feels around with his **SOUL**, locating and categorising each feeling of hope and happiness that filters through. When he finally finishes appreciating the brilliance of Mother Earth's hopes, he opens his eyes.

A plain ceiling greets him, one he's never seen before. Looking around shows him green walls, a TV, a chair and table, a window, and a lamp and nightstand. On the nightstand rests a bowl of soup with some crackers and a glass next to a pitcher of water.

Dream struggles to sit up, pouring himself a glass of water and downing it when he does. After downing one more glass then pouring a third to sip on, he looks at the food. He grabs a cracker and dips it into the creamy soup, popping it into his mouth and moaning at the flavor. God, Grillby's was the best. He eagerly grabs the soup and the rest of the crackers, ready to eat it all when he notices a note that had been under the bowl.

Written in Comic Sans, which tells him nothing on who really wrote it, it reads;

'Dearest Dream,

You should be more careful on who you accept drinks from, not everyone is out to be your friend, or has your interests in mind. You are lucky that people who care were around to help.

Take care.'

Dream reads it over again, confuse, and takes another bite of soup. Did something happen last night? Is that why he's here and not because he had finally decided that three weeks was too long without sleep? He tries to think back to last night but all he could remember was Ink leaving him at some underground rave party.

He folds the note and places it in a pocket to think on later. Right now, he needs to eat and find Ink. That bastard of a skeleton has his staff.


	5. Chapter 5

Dream doubles over, trying to catch his breath. He's been running all around the multiverse, trying to catch Ink and get his staff back. The machine that he's borrowing from Science Sans was starting to get uncomfortably warm and is now making a strange humming noise that Dream did not like. Sci did mention it was a prototype.

Dream straightens up, checking the machine first to make sure that it wouldn't explode, not that it would kill him, but it would hurt and Sci would be angry (and ecstatic that it lasted so long). He decides that giving it a few minutes rest would be ideal in keeping it functional and turns it off. He looks up and checks his surroundings, smiling at the 'star' cave of an underground world.

Waterfall was always Dream's favorite, just barely beating the Ruins. The peaceful sounding brooks that were always up for babbling a hello, the waterfalls that loudly proclaimed their beauty. Then, there's the stars. Well, shiny rocks that are treated like stars. While they couldn't hold a candle flame to the actual night sky, they were beautiful in their own right and Dream loves them. He could spend forever just looking at them, trying to copy their gleam with his own eyelights.

He finds a nice nook to settle down in, one that amplifies the talking streams around him and shows a clear view of the stars. He stares at them, each twinkling gleam reminding him of someone's hopes and wishes. These peaceful moments are what he loves, what he strives for. He can glow just as brightly as any of those stars and the only one stopping him is himself.

Not today. Today, he closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and drowns out the voices, allowing his natural glow to over power those of the stars, to outshine all that dares to compete. He opens his sockets, no shadows remaining inside them, to see a golden throne room replacing the cave bit by bit. Before him stand two royal throne chairs, one bright and cheerful and surrounded by happy golden flowers that are wildly out of control, the other midnight black but approachable, lovable and friendly in it's own right. Black flowers grow around it, orderly and gorgeous.

Dream approaches his chair, giggling at the feel of it beneath his fingers. He knows that this is all in his mind, that he could never actually touch it again, but this memory was so real to him and made him so happy that he didn't want to believe it wasn't real. All he wanted was to go home, and here he is; home.

He looks behind the throne chairs, happily observing the portrait behind them. There they stand, happy and together and smiling. Dream with his usual attire and staff held above his head proudly, and Nightmare next to him, standing confidently with white bones, a golden crown, and purple and black and blue princely clothes, a small smile touching his lips and kindness in his eyes. Not a hint of despair to be seen. They were both so young, so happy and carefree.

Dream looks behind him. There stand his people, humans and monsters all smiling at them. They were so happy to see them back. They love their princes.

_No,_ Dream thinks. _They only love me. They don't love him like I do. They never did._

Suddenly, his people didn't look so happy to see him. They take the forms of terrifying beasts. They whisper and rasp in his mind.

_Why didn't you __**save**_ _us?_

_**Kill**_ _him._

_He's __**evil**__._

_**Hate**_ _him._

_Save us._

Dream turns from those terrifying beasts and runs.

_You're __**our prince**__, help us._

_Our prince._

_Our chosen prince._

_Help us._

_**Kill**_ _him._

He holds his head, trying to block out their voices.

_Help us._

_Save us._

_**Kill**_ _him._

_Save us._

_**KILL**_ _HIM._

They begin to scream, he screams back.

_**SAVE**_ _US!_

_**HELP**_ _US!_

_**KILL**__! __**HIM**__!_

"NO!" he yells so loudly that his voice cracks. It echoes back to him, bouncing around him. He repeats it over and over with the echos, "No! NO! **No!** No. No… no…"

Hours past. They don't stop, so he doesn't stop.

_Kill him._

"No."

_Save us._

" … no…"

_Help us._

" … … no…"

Over and over they demand, over and over he cannot give them what they want. The Nightmare he loves may never be with him again, but he's still Dreams brother, Dream could never kill his brother. So he sits, cornered on his throne, and repeating himself to his subjects till he goes hoarse and is no longer able to speak. He still repeats no to every plea. He doesn't even look at them anymore. His eyes remain closed, his hands covering his ears (though it does no good as they just echo back in his mind), and he remains curled on his golden throne, now wishing for nothing more than to be anywhere but home. Anywhere but here.

A hand lands on his shoulder. He doesn't look. He doesn't move. He simply says (mouths) _no_. They tilt his head up, _no._ They wipe away the tears, _no._

They speak.

"Dr**e**am"

_No._

"Yo**u**'re ok_a_y, Dream."

_No._

"C_**a**_n you H**e**ar me, _D_re**a**m?"

_No._

Their hands leave him. He doesn't want them to go, they sound so familiar_._ He takes a breath and tries to call them back, _please._ The attempt has him coughing. His throat feels raw, like someone shoved blades down it or he swallowed acid. The hands come back though, and that voice joins them in a soft 'shhhhh' as he hacks out lungs he doesn't have. When he finally stops coughing, he latches onto one of the hands, refusing to let them go.

His people don't stop talking, but they do grow quieter, quiet enough for him to hear his own thoughts and be able to do more than just mindlessly repeat _no_. He opens his eyes just a crack to still see the throne room he used to love. He quickly closes them again. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to see this, but he is, so he latches more securely to the body connected to the hands and hides there.

If only Nightmare was here. Nightmare had always protected him. Nothing bad had ever happened when Nightmare and Dream had been together.


	6. Chapter 6

Dream doesn't know how long time passes as he tightly holds onto whoever this is. The voices have quieted down, only an annoying whisper in the back of his skull, and the throne room was now completely gone, once more showing the cave and it's beautiful stars. Still, he doesn't let go. He doesn't feel safe letting go. So he holds on.

He could feel the ribs of the one here for him. They feel brittle, about to break at the slightest of touch, but they remain strong within his grasp, not once doing more than lightly creaking.

He takes calming breaths, matching those of the monster he lays on. In, out. In, out. In, out. Over and over till he can breath without a hitch in his throat.

One of the monster's hands cradle his head, soothingly rubbing circles there with their thumb. The other hand traces his spine, up when he breathes in and down when he breathes out. They never once falter, getting him to relax further and further to the point of almost sleeping. This was the most relaxed he's felt in hundreds of years, it was something he would love to get used to.

However, now is not the time for rest. He still has a staff to retrieve and this monster to thank. He thinks he knows who it is too. So with one last calming breath, he let's go of the monster and pushes himself off of them. Dream opens his eyes, ignoring the shadows dancing in his peripherals with practiced ease.

Error let's him go without a fuss, his expression holding a bit of relief but mostly concern. Everyone knows that Error really didn't like touching, so why was he doing so much of it with Dream? He wasn't anything special, he couldn't even be a proper brother.

"**aR**_**e **_**y**_**oU**_ **oka**_**y**_**, Dre**_**am**_**?"** Error asks.

"Why do you care?" Dream questions back. He really wanted to know why Error cared, last Dream checked they were on opposite sides. Though, to be fair, Dream hasn't really been trying to stop Error for a while.

"**Wh**_**y**_ **s**_**h**_**o**_**u**_**lDn't I ca**_**r**_**e?"**

Why shouldn't he care? Because they were enemies. Because Dream is useless. Because no one should care about Dream. He doesn't deserve it. He never did. Nightmare was the one people should care about, he needs it, not Dream.

"You shouldn't."

"**B**_**u**_**t i d**_**o**_**.**"

He does. Dream can see that. Error does care. Dream hadn't thought Error was capable of caring, of doing more than destroying everything and everyone in his path. Apparently, there was a lot that Dream thought that wasn't true. How much more of Dreams 'truths' that he believes in are wrong?

"I'm sorry." Dream whispers, looking away from Error and hugging himself. The thing is, Error has a life, and sure, it's one of destroying universes, but it's better than nothing. Now, Dream has gotten in the way of that life when he didn't even mean to. He couldn't do anything right. He hasn't even asked how Error is doing.

"**Ther**_**e is**_ **nO n**_**e**_**ed to **_**b**_**e **_**s**_**Orr**_**y **_**DRea**_**m**_**. T**_**h**_**e b**_**r**_**ok**_**E**_**n **_**t**_**aK**_**e**_ **care Of ea**_**c**_**h ot**_**he**_**r.**"

Dream looks at Error, studying him for any hint of deceit. There is none. Error is broken. Dream can see it in the way he always glances about, always looking for danger, in the way his body is seemingly relaxed but is actually ready to move at a second's notice. He sees it in the way Error tries not to flinch when Dream moves. The scars and chips and breaks in his bones. Everything points to a broken monster, but at the same time, it all points to someone strong, someone unbeatable.

Dream is broken too, he can feel it, deep down in his soul, something's wrong. However, he's not strong like Error. He can't just pick himself up and build a new empire like Nightmare. He is weak.

"Sorry for bothering you." Dream whispers, looking away so he can turn on Sci's machine. It is still locked onto Ink's signature, which is good, it'll take him to the next universe in the line. "I should go." The machine starts counting down.

5…

4…

"**DR**_**e**_**am."**

3…

He looks up.

2…

"**pLeas**_**e**_ **Do**_**n**_**'t r**_**u**_**N.**"

…1.

Before Dream could answer that there was nothing for him to run from because he doesn't need or want whatever help Error is offering, the device reaches zero and whisks him away with a cheerful little beep.

_Sorry Error, but you shouldn't waste your life on a nobody like me._

0 _o

An: Don't really have more planned for this story. Will update when or if I do.


End file.
